


A few drinks and I’m yours

by Esgoda



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, First Kiss, Frottage, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Lazy Noctis Lucis Caelum, M/M, Noctis Lucis Caelum Has Feelings, Pre-Road Trip, Promptis - Freeform, Prompto Argentum is a Ray of Sunshine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26949625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esgoda/pseuds/Esgoda
Summary: "You kissed me."“Yeah,“ Prompto laughs, breathless and shivery against Noctis’s ear and then soft lips are pressing just underneath, around the sensitive skin there. It’s like ignition sparks in Noctis’s drunken state, flashing from where Prompto’s lips meet his skin directly to his spine as if connected by a live wire.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 29
Kudos: 140





	1. The Night Before

Noctis was a little bit drunk.

Maybe … okay, maybe more than a little bit drunk. Maybe very very drunk, considering how little balance he seems to have. But Prompto is nearly just as bad, stumbling and wobbly at his side, which somehow makes him feel better about the spinning décor.

"But like, you can warm – warmp – _warp_ – " Prompto is saying, loudly next to Noctis’s ear, " – warp through thin air, like, what the fuck? That’s so coooool, dude. All I can do is shoot a gun."

"Shooting a gun is cool too. You're like a really small, blonde cowboy."

"Here, fuck you. We're the same height!"

They’re clinging to each, trying to remain upright, but all Noctis can concentrate on is the solid arm around his waist and how little space there is between their bodies. It’s probably why they’re stumbling so much.

Well, either that or the momentum from Prompto’s free arm waving dramatically as he speaks is throwing them off balance.

His side vibrates with laughter against a distracting hand.

They’re at the end of the night now. Their attempts at evading Ignis had started off well, but the more alcohol they consumed the worse they got until Ignis simply appeared, caught them by the scruff of their necks and threw them into the back of the Regalia.

Iggy had tried to stay mad. He really had. But Prompto had started professing adoration for his new glasses and how incredibly cool they made him look and like anyone who encountered Prompto, he melted. Noctis had started giggling, eyes glued to Iggy’s face, tight with anger but also mashed with reluctant fondness and everything Noctis loved about his advisor.

Noctis told him so. And Ignis had just sighed and helped them to the door of his flat before leaving them to it. 

Now? Now, it’s just a matter of getting to his bedroom so they can collapse and sleep it off. Even that small feat is starting to look unlikely.

"Does it feel weird? Warping? Like you just _disappear_ – like, you could go through anything. You could go through a person! Ohmygod, oh my god, you have to go through me now!" The room tilts as Prompto pushes him away and Noctis sways dangerously.

For a moment; just a moment, he thinks he might manage to remain upright. Right up until he isn’t.

Ears ringing with Prompto’s laugher, he hits the floor with a thud that he doesn’t feel and closes his eyes against the bright glare of the lights. Finding that the blackness behind his eyelids is spinning too, he takes his chances with the lights.

"Your laugh is nice." It takes him a moment to realise that he’s said that, but there’s no time to feel embarrassed by his lack of filter as Prompto’s grinning face appears above him, helping him up. Energetic even at three in the morning.

"Come on! You gotta warp through me – I wanna know what it feels like!”

"Alright! Alright!" Laughing again, Noctis let’s himself be hauled up. They cling to each other until the room steadies somewhat, eyes meeting and stifling laugher over god knows what.

"Right I’m okay," Noctis murmurs, you know like a liar, and takes a step back, putting his hand up between them. "You ready?"

"Bring it." Prompto eagerly jumps on the balls of his feet, face alive with mirth.

Noctis is very drunk.

Instead of warping he sort of throws himself at Prompto – their bodies colliding – and lets out a grunt. The wall saves them the long fall to the ground but Prompto’s back takes the hit and he groans, long and loud into Noctis’s ear. It causes all sorts of pleasant tremors down his spine and he giggles helplessly into blonde hair.

Prompto punches his arm.

"Shit! Let me try again – " Noctis laughs, alcohol inhibited limbs wobbling as he tries to push their bodies apart.

"You were supposed to warp you idiot!"

Prompto’s abdomen tenses under Noctis’s palm with the shout and oh – oh wow. Noctis gives in to gravity’s pull, letting his head drop to look, intent on pulling the shirt up to see the muscle under his palm for himself. But because life hates him, he instead bangs his forehead directly against Prompto’s nose.

"Ugh," Prompto snorts, sweaty hand pushing Noctis’s face away while the other clutches at his nose.

" _Fuck_ , I’m sorry – I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Prom – _shit_.”

He repeats the statement only because he’s still laughing, and it doesn’t sound very convincing.

Giving up on confirming the strength under the thin shirt, he instead elects to weave his head directly in front of Prompto’s – whose laughing too – trying to see past his arms to the damage. Frustration gets the better of him and he pulls Prompto’s hands away with his own.

"Let me see, let me see, let me see."

Blinking rapidly so his vision would focus, he takes in Prompto’s freckled and uninjured nose slowly.

"You’re fine! You’re not bleeding at all and – hey. You’re _OK_ ," he emphasises, because Prompto is looking at him with big intense eyes.

Noctis puts a hand either side of Prompto’s face and frowns seriously, determined to assure the blonde. But before he can say anything the freckled face blurs again and Noctis curses, swaying back, trying to keep him in focus. He can’t move too far; hips kept firmly against the other boys by two hands gripping them for support, but it doesn't help anyway. Prompto keeps getting closer, more blurry. In fact …

In fact, he’s … well … Prompto is kissing him.

Noctis stares.

His best friend’s eyes are closed and his gaze jumps from freckle to freckle in amazement. The lips against his own are soft and pliable, the tongue on his bottom lip _wet_ –

With a gasp, he snaps his head to the side, the fast movement enough to make his stomach leap in warning.

"You kissed me."

“Yeah,“ Prompto laughs, breathless and shivery against Noctis’s ear and then soft lips are pressing just underneath, around the sensitive skin there. It’s like ignition sparks in Noctis’s drunken state, flashing from where Prompto’s lips meet his skin directly to his spine as if connected by a live wire.

He leans back into Prompto’s space to steady himself – heart jackhammering in his chest.

"You’re still kissing me," he whispers, lips tingling as they form the words and Prompto giggles again, before making an exaggerated kissing noise and puckering his lips wetly against his throat. Shock turns to hilarity and he laughs.

"Is that okay?"

It did feel nice. It felt really nice.

"Well, I’ll keep doing it then."

Oh, he’d said that out loud?

"Can we go to sleep though, please?" Noctis sighs, the soft kisses and warm embrace making him drowsy.

He’s surprised to see the familiar interior of his flat when he looks around. Prompto seems to go through a similar experience as, after a moment of warm silence, he points towards the open doorway of Noctis’s bedroom helpfully.

Having Prompto kissing at any skin he can reach does not help Noctis navigate them both, but the walls are sturdy, and Noctis would rather like to lie down before he hurts either of them again.

The bed feels like heaven and he briefly thinks they’ll have no trouble falling asleep.

Thinking is not his strong-suit.

Being horizontal, Prompto’s weight takes on a whole new meaning. A meaning that replaces the sleep from Noctis’s fuzzy brain as soon as Prompto's settles on him, with something hot and impatient and needy.

A knee shifts his thighs apart and the blonde noses up his neck, leaving goosebumps and shivers in his wake as the sweet kisses from earlier turn hot and messy. Noctis grips Prompto’s hair, still half in shock.

And when the blonde reaches the stretch of muscle where neck becomes shoulder and bites down hard, Noctis swears a flash of light goes off before his eyes.

Tilting his head into Prompto’s hair, he forces his clumsy hands to cup the gunslinger’s face and pull him up from his neck to – _oh_.

Ohhhhh yes. Prompto tastes … he tastes … so _good_.

"Hmmm." Noctis slids his tongue into his friend’s mouth, silky and as sweet as the cocktail Prompto last drank. The blonde settles more firmly on top of him, releasing a little breathless hiccup into his mouth that only makes the heat in Noctis fan high and unbearable. He whines as Prompto pulls away, his pupils blown as wide as his smile when Noctis gets his friend’s face into focus.

"God, you’re so pretty Noct. Like it’s so unfair, how am I not supposed to want to kiss you – when you look at me like that."

_Oh Astrals._

Fingers are brushing his hair back from his face gently, so gently and a little off centre and Noctis remembers just how very drunk they both are and that doing things drunk is not a good idea.

The thought is fleeting beneath that reverent gaze.

"Can I? Can I?" Prompto whispers between chaste kisses and Noctis nods, not knowing what is being asked for and not caring.

Their lips press together fully again and a tongue flicks against Noctis’s teeth, slick and terribly arousing.

Any kind of rational thought is wiped from the Prince’s brain as he clutches Prompto against him, fingers clumsy.

They’re so close; closer than Noctis has ever been to anyone before. And it feels so nice. To be pressed down into a bed, to have a tongue in his mouth, hair tickling his face. It’s almost too intimate, after standing alone for nearly his whole life. But before that thought can take hold, Prompto slants his jaw wider and _sucks_ and Noctis forgets who he is.

He's getting hard.

Surely Prompto can feel it, pressed as tightly against him as he is but Noctis still makes an urgent, embarrassed noise, shooting a hand down to try and put some space between them. But he doesn't succeed. Instead his hand presses up against - oh _god_. Prompto is hard too. And now rutting gently against him; Noctis wonders if this is how he dies. Whimpered noises and trembling arms and blood pounding in his ears hard enough that he can barely think.

His lips are swollen and tender from being bitten when Prompto eventually breaks for breath and hesitantly, Noctis palms the bulge he feels, watching as Prompto whines and shudders above him.

"You're big," he murmurs, purple eyes sparkling like beacons in the dark and Prompto straight up growls and the world kinda blurs for a moment.

When he can see again, Prompto is moving wet kisses down his naked chest.

"Where’d my shirt go?" he slurs, petting into blonde hair – it’s so _soft_ – and eyes glued to the little pink tongue that appears every so often against his abs. Always accompanied by a little shot of pleasure.

He’d had that tongue in his mouth, he thinks and then chuckles – stomach flexing under Prompto’s mouth.

Hands join in, pale fingers spread as they roam over his skin; seemingly fixated on his stomach and Noctis realises he’s grinding upwards and forces himself to stop, still laughing softly in disbelief.

"You’re the pretty one, you know," Noctis sighs.

Like not just now – but wow now; looking up at him, lips pink and blushing, Noctis doesn’t even have words – but like all the time. With a camera in his hands, sound asleep on Noctis’s sofa, smiling – oh Astrals – when Prompto smiles it’s like the _sun_ –

"Dude, stop! Are you trying to kill me?"

Prompto is back in front of him, brilliantly red, his hands smoothing across Noctis’s cheeks and warm breath on his face.

Goddammit, had he said all that out loud too?

"Sorry," he whispers, even though he’s not and sinks back into the pillows. He mustn't be too upset though, cause he’s being kissed again and Noctis spreads his legs apart – hands sliding down to grip each globe of Prompto’s ass and squeeze – encouraging him to grind down like he’d been doing previously.

The kiss is more urgent than before, which is really saying something. Noctis slips his tongue down under Prompto’s own where’s it hot and smooth, amazed he’s even doing such a thing. He’s _kissing_ Prompto. And the only thought in his head is why the hell haven’t they been doing this sooner.

Suddenly, a thigh pushes right up between his legs and Noctis goes cross-eyed with pleasure. His moan vibrating between their mouths.

Grinding down, he chases after Prompto’s mouth as his friend moves upright only to blink his eyes open when he is pushed back down. Prompto is still fully clothed, hair array, and eyes crazed as he’s looks down to where –

"Oh hell," Noctis whines, now watching too as his trouser button is undone and tugged open without finesse. His cock tents the boxers underneath lewdly – a small wet patch visible where the head is uncomfortably pressed against the fabric.

But Prompto is licking his lips when their eyes meet and Noctis loses his breath.

It’s … it’s so _intense_. He doesn’t know how to explain it. Prompto doesn’t blink, doesn’t break eye contact, his face deadly serious and dark with lust and Noctis has never been more turned-on in his life.

Completely enraptured, the tip of a thumb presses right up against the ridge of his dick through his boxers and Noctis forgets how to breathe.

"You’re so fucking hot, Noctis."

Prompto rubs a circle with his thumb and Noctis gasps, fisting the bedding below.

He can’t look away. Even when he feels Prompto expose him to the air. Even when he feels knuckles brush against his balls as a waistband is tucked snugly underneath them.

Only when Prompto’s eyes flick down to look at him, does the spell break.

He has no time to be embarrassed as, without any hesitation, a hand circles him tightly and pumps once, working him from root to tip. He nearly bucks Prompto off with a shout, one hand finally moving up to muffle the mortifying sounds coming from his throat.

The blonde merely shifts until he’s sitting on Noctis’s thighs to better pin him down and starts a steady rhythm.

Up down, up down goes Prompto’s hand.

Up down, up down goes Noctis’s hips, the pitch of his voice, the flaming heat in his abdomen.

"So _hot_ ," Prompto whispers, the free hand not currently jerking him off laying flat on his tense stomach.

Noctis can’t take the focus; feeling as if he’s burning from the inside out whenever he’s brave enough to look at Prompto only to find him staring at at him like he's about to be devoured.

So he releases his mouth and reaches out. "You too, you too," he pants, clumsy hands fumbling down past – yep that’s Prompto’s fucking hand on his goddamn dick – to tug at the blonde’s own trousers. Prompto lets him go to help but wastes no time in lining them up, taking both of them in one hand and starting up again once he’s free.

There’s a ringing in Noctis’s ears. The head of Prompto’s cock nudges his own in the most fantastic way, and he _is_ big. Bigger than Noctis, bigger than Gladio even, going by the brief and traumatising glimpse he’d gotten of his Shield and Advisor in the throws of passion.

Why is this so hot? He can't stop looking at them together. Even the feel of Prompto’s balls, squashed against his own is driving him crazy.

The edges of his vision go pink as Prompto’s hips start fucking forward into the tight circle he's made around them both, head thrown back as he braces himself on Noctis’s abdomen. He is a complete vision. The most gorgeous thing Noctis has ever seen.

And, completely overcome and feeling rather useless, he bends his knees until his feet are flat on the mattress and thrusts too – still wearing his stupid boots.

A deep groan is his reward; loud enough to be heard through the ringing in his ears and yeah, he’s gonna come. Holy fuck is he gonna come.

He can barely find his voice to warn him. " _Prom_ , I’m gonna – I’m – "

The blonde head falls back down towards him, eyes blown and eager. "Astrals _yes_ , I got you. Do it. Do it Noct; over your stomach, over my fist – "

What the _fuck_? What the fuck? The words are like a physical hook, yanking at his insides. The hand gets faster, wrist twisting around them at the top where it’s slick and Noctis’s balls draw up, so close he can almost taste it.

"Yes Noct, that’s so hot, you look so good. Oh fuck– oh, oh, fuck that’s – I’m close. Babe, you gotta come –"

That does it. He comes as if by command; spurts hot between calloused fingers and half-way up his own chest with Prompto’s name on his lips. The fist around him doesn’t loosen, doesn’t slow and Noctis thrashes and shakes, but he is solidly pinned and it only succeeds in dragging out his orgasm unbearably, _amazingly_ long.

Until he’s positive he’s about to pass the fuck out.

Sweaty and shaking, a low shivery moan catches his attention, and he opens his eyes just in time to see Prompto hunched over him, blonde hair stuck to his forehead with sweat as his own semen joins the mess on his chest. It’s … _hot_. Like Prompto has marked him or something. Oversensitive and empty, he rubs soothing palms on the thighs spread either side of him as Prompto finally stops and heaves shuddering breaths, releasing them to lay half-hard and softening against each other.

"Wow," Noctis is saying, tongue thick in his mouth. "Wow, Prom that was – that was … holy shit."

It was also quite fast. Neither of them lasting barely a minute once Prompto got his hand around them both.

But he's not embarrassed, not when he feels so good. Not when Prompto is laughing and sitting upright; fully clothed besides for the soft cock between his legs to look at Noctis with the same expression he’d had just before touching him for the first time. Noctis shivers.

He’s never going to be able to look at Prompto again without thinking about that expression.

"Can I take a picture?"

Sated and a little mind blown, Noctis laughs in disbelief. Prompto already has his phone in his hand.

"Dude, that’s so kinky."

"If you could see yourself, you’d want a picture too," Prompto says, biting his lip.

And blood still thick with alcohol, Noctis grins happily and throws up a peace sign as the picture (or pictures going by Prompto’s thumb) is taken, making the photographer giggle. It’s pure bliss; aftershocks still sliding like melted butter over his skin, as Prompto, who finally seems satisfied, drops his phone out of sight and tucks himself away. Noctis jumps as he does the same for him, finding it strangely intimate even after everything they’ve just done.

Cold air licks at his bare chest and Noctis grimaces.

"Ugh, gross."

Prompto laughs and leans over clumsily to find something to clean him up with. Noctis watches him with lidded eyes as he struggles to find whatever it is he's looking for, and starts laughing. Finding the way Prompto is blindly fumbling rather amusing.

A triumphant smile breeches a freckled face and Noctis smiles back before glancing down. "That’s my shirt!" he squawks and watches in dismay as he is cleaned; the stained shirt being tossed carelessly onto the floor when it’s done.

"You don’t need it."

"How come I’m shirtless and you’re not?"

Prompto runs his hands up and down said naked chest appreciatively and Noctis hums, content to be touched. Prompto doesn’t answer. Instead he flops onto the bed and curls up against Noctis’s side with a yawn. Their fingers find each other in the dark, interlocking quietly and sleep calls like a siren.

Snuggling back against Prompto, he breathes deeply – the scent of sex and sweat filling his nostrils – and is out like a light before he can think to close his eyes.


	2. The Morning After

Why _the fuck_ are the curtains open?

Noctis bravely squints around the room. Blinks once, twice, three times, and then closes his eyes without having seen anything but white light. They prickle even after so short a time open and a throb of pain shoots through his skull; what a fucking wake-up call. What does it matter where he is when it’s so stupidly bright?

The sun is warm on his face, lighting a dull red behind his eyelids that is still too much for his tender head. So, he drowsily rolls sideways, back to the window.

A vague, sleepy part of him recognises his own bedroom anyway; the sheets, the pillow, even the smells are all familiar, but perhaps the most telling giveaway is the noticeable absence of pain in his back. Sleeping anywhere else usually has the side effect of irritating his old injury into a burning kind-of sensation that takes hours of stretching to soothe. But the ache is soft; a sign of a specifically designed mattress.

 _If only you could have one made for a hangover_ , he thinks and then wished he hadn’t as another stab of pain helpfully reminds him of his current predicament.

Just how _much_ had he drunk last night?

They’d gone to what? Five, six bars? There was at least one club, the memory of neon lights manifesting as another gentle kick to his temple. It always ends like this but can you blame him? He can count on one hand how many nights he's had free to spend all night out with Prompto. Coincidentally, it takes the same number of fingers to count how many hangovers he's lived through. Ugh, even counting hurts.

Grimacing at the horrible cotton-thick taste in his mouth, he tries to let the sleep lingering at the edge of his conscience pull him back under. It nearly does. But the climbing sun that slants golden across his face _again_ demands otherwise, and he throws an arm over his eyes in defeat.

Goddamn skylights.

Noctis sighs. At least he’d been allowed to sleep-in. It would be just like Gladio to burst boisterously into the flat determined to make as much noise as possible to laugh at his misery. Or Ignis, in as monotone a voice as his advisor could muster, inquiring as to why Noctis was not ready for the morning diplomatic meeting that most certainly could not be rescheduled.

Instead, his room is blissfully quiet.

But bright. Much too bright.

Cursing Bahumut, he blindly reaches for the bedside drawer in search of his phone, intent on texting Prompto to commiserate with. Having gone shot for shot with him last night, he’s surely lurking around here somewhere just as miserable as he.

 _Ugh, god_. Even just the _thought_ of shots makes him shudder.

There is a loud thud as searching fingers knock into something and Noctis winces, holds his breath until the pain fades and re-starts, pettily refusing to open his eyes. Moving makes it obvious pretty quickly that it’s not just his head that aches but _literally_ everything else; his hip, his arms, his legs. What on earth had he been doing to have pulled his calf muscles for fucks sake?

His arm drops down to the floor when he can’t find his phone (perhaps it fell during the night?) but his fingertips find only cool wood and dust. And, already low on motivation, he gives up.

Simply enjoying the comfort of the soft pillow under his head.

Where the hell is his best friend anyway? Hadn’t they slept here together?

He distinctly remembers them falling into bed. Remembers Prompto’s heavy weight, face pressed right up against his neck and …

Noctis goes very still.

Why … _why the fuck does he remember kissing._

Bolting upright, pain lashes through his skull with how widely his eyes open, and he stares aghast at his own naked torso as more memories fill his head. Prompto’s tongue, hands, holy shit, his _dick_. His stupidly _big_ dick.

“No way,” he whispers in disbelief, blood throbbing through his temple, looking at the painfully empty place spot next to him and then around the equally empty room. When his gaze catches on an innocent black t-shirt balled up on the floor under the window, he swallows hard, feeling two sizes too small in his own skin.

And the question of his best friend’s whereabouts takes on a fearful tinge.

Eyes open now, he quickly finds his phone in his trouser pocket from last night. Two new messages from Ignis, six missed calls from Ignis, one voicemail from Ignis – Noctis winces – but nothing from Prompto. Did he go home? Is he in the bathroom?

Noctis narrows his eyes at his bathroom door, ears pricked but doesn’t hear a sound.

Astrals, what is he going to do? He can’t think straight – the memory of that achingly familiar blonde head arched low over his chest is _haunting_ him. Or better yet, Prompto’s hand, tight, but unable to fully circle around them both as he jerks roughly, too dry, and so fucking good.

_Oh god._

Swallowing, Noctis fists the blankets over his crotch – cock uncomfortably thick between his legs - before groaning and throwing them childishly over his head, burrowing back into the mattress. The air is oppressively hot there but it is dark and the pain in his head lessens, which is good enough for him.

Holding his breath, he tentatively touches fingertips to his abdomen which leaps eagerly in welcome and finds it still a little sticky. God, _fuck_. They seriously did it. Prompto had touched his dick, and his own, and then both at the same time and he’d just _laid_ there like a fool and _oh_! That’s why his legs are so sore! Blushing madly, he continues his journey down – heart loud in his ears – until his hand bumps against the upturned curve of cloth over his growing erection and a fission of pleasure sparks at the base of his spine. In the dark, it’s easier somehow to accept the giddy flop of his insides as he remembers what he can.

It’s the kissing that’s the most vivid, is that weird? The rest of the memories are soaked in a haze of pleasure, just enough for most of the little details to have blurred. But the kissing …

In a daze, he rubs his thumb against his bottom lip.

“Noct?”

Freezing, a knock followed by the tell-tail click of his bedroom door sounds outside his protective mound of blankets. So Prompto hadn’t left. He can’t tell if he’s relieved or mortified. Maybe both.

There is a disgruntled murmur, footsteps and then the curtains are being pulled closed with a soft whoosh. He peaks out from the blankets then, catches a glimpse of sleep-tousled blonde hair and quickly hides back inside when Prompto turns around.

Another memory; that same head of hair down between his legs, tilted up to look at him, lips swollen from kissing. _Holy fuck_. Noctis promptly moves his hand as far away from his groin as possible.

The mattress dips to his left.

“Noct?” There’s a beat of silence, where guilt crawls finger by finger up his throat at his own cowardness until the blanket is jerked experimentally and without thinking, he grips them in panic. It’s just that, he’s still half-hard! And hungover! And he doesn’t know what to say yet, doesn’t know how to react or if he even _should_ react or –

“Hah, knew you were awake. No snoring.”

“… I don’t snore.”

“ _Sure_ ,” replies Prompto, as if placating a child and the more Noctis stays under the covers the more he feels like one. Ugh, what is he going to say?

What he assumes is Prompto shifts more fully onto the bed and laughter from some stupid sitcom fills the air as the TV is turned on. “I guess I’ll watch TV all by myself then, and – oh what is _this_ – are these painkillers?” The rattle of the little pill bottle has Noctis peeking out again hopefully and even with the curtains closed, he swears the sun is still in the room when Prompto’s face finally comes into view; eyes bloodshot and skin starkly pale under his freckles.

Still the prettiest thing Noctis has ever seen though.

His mouth curves up in a tiny smile when their eyes meet and Noctis is pretty sure his brain turns to mush. He’d kissed that mouth, pushed his tongue right in between the seam of those moving lips where it was lush and wet and fuck, he wants to do it again. Doesn’t know how he’s going to stop himself how he’s had a taste and – Prompto’s hand breaks his line of sight as it waves in front of his face.

_Goddamit!_

“What?” he murmurs, voice defensive in embarrassment.

“I said, wanna come outta there? I closed the curtains, so it’s all safe.”

The burrow in Prompto’s forehead deepens when he hesitates and he can’t exactly stay here forever. So, with a deep breath he pushes out of the homemade cocoon of blankets. Prompto’s eyes drop to his naked chest and he visibly gulps.

Noctis fights the urge to hide again. Instead, shifting until they’re side by side against the headboard (and the blankets are strategically placed over his lap). He never knew his heart could _beat_ so fast, not even at the height of training with Gladio. He feels almost light-headed as Prompto holds out the offered goodies, and ends up nearly spilling the glass of water all over them when their fingers brush. They both laugh uncertainly.

He steals a quick glance at his friend’s face then, finds him doing the same and quickly chugs the water down in five large gulps, coughing a little. Prompto is staring very determinedly at the TV when he drops the now empty glass.

“So…”

“So…” the blonde repeats, gaze flirting over him briefly before returning to the screen. Guess Noctis isn’t the only one embarrassed by just how thirsty he’d been last night.

“How, how do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been run over.” They laugh again, nervous and stilted. Gods, this is so stupid. “You?” Prompto adds, not quite managing to keep his voice casual.

“Same. I don’t think I’ve ever been as drunk as last night.”

“How about next time you don’t ask the bartender for the strongest shots they have?”

“I didn’t force you to drink them! And besides, there isn’t going to be a next time.”

Probably not the best way he could have worded that. Noctis suppresses a wince as Prompto turns sharply to face him.

“I’m never drinking again,” he deadpans, “I’ll take a royal vow of sobriety before my dad and it’ll be the talk of Insomina.”

Shoulders sag in relief.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Prince Noctis, the Sober.”

“I can’t believe I’m friends with you.”

“You’ll be there of course,” Noctis adds nonchalantly, the air between them finally starting to charge with warmth. “Taking blackmail pictures for next time I’m stupidly hungover.”

Prompto’s smiling now at least. But the elephant in the room is impossible to ignore, sitting gracelessly in the small space between them and Noctis hears him sigh. And sure, he’s nervous, wondering if last night was genuine or alcohol induced, wondering if Prompto regrets it or is mortified or worse.

But then he twists the blanket pooled in his lap between his fingers and thinks about how it had been draped over him this morning. About the fact that his boots had been removed before he’d woken up. About the water and the pills. But mainly about Prompto, here and now, beside him and wringing his hands together worriedly and Noctis just needs to know. He needs to know for certain if there really is something between them.

“You’re overthinking.”

Prompto laughs, a little hysterically. “Bro. You have to admit I have – I have a lot to think about this time!”

Stealing himself, he reaches across the impossible space to lay his palm on a tense thigh. It’s terrifying and wonderful. Like jumping from a cliff with no safety net. Prompto stares at it and then gives a little snort-laugh, blonde hair falling across his face attractively.

“If that was supposed to somehow _stop_ me thinking about last night, then you got another thing coming buddy – “

Noctis surges forward, pulse so loud in his ears he can’t hear anything, so caught up, so anxious, that he pulls back after barely a second without registering anything about the kiss other than it happened.

Prompto, who has gone completely rigid, stares at him. Silently.

And perhaps it’s only a second, maybe less. But to Noctis it _drags_ across every single nerve he has, stripping whatever courage had brought him here before gathering like stuffing in the back of his throat. Still, he waits with bated breath.

And Prompto just looks at him, mouth hanging open like a fish.

What had he been thinking? Prompto had always been caring, always put others first, not just Noctis and especially not because he fancied him - Prompto was just _good_ like that. Which was a very large part of why Noctis liked him so much. Plus, he was always talking about girls in their class and sure Gladio got an appreciative stare once in a while but never him, not once … not until last night. A horrible ache fills the hollow in his gut.

He whips his hand back into his own lap, back hitting the metal frame of the headboard with a thud, thoughts getting progressively heavier and heavier until Prompto finally speaks.

“You.” Prompto stops, tries again. Noctis can’t look at him. “You kissed me.”

The door is only a couple of feet away. What’s to stop him making a run for it? Besides the fact that he can’t seem to clear his tumbling, awful thoughts enough to remember how to move his stupid legs.

“Noct, you kissed me.”

“Yeah, I know.” He sounds miserable.

“Is this some sort of joke?”

“No.”

“Because it’s not funny.”

“It’s not – it’s not meant to be.” Noctis feels like he’s going to be sick. “Look just, can we forget it? Start over? I shouldn’t have – “

“No.” And the tone is so sharp, so unlike Prompto that Noctis flinches. “Would you look at me?”

Noctis doesn’t want to but does and something vulnerable and bright opens across the blonde’s face for a mere second before he’s frowning again. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“ _Noctis_.” Ouch, his full name? Prompto only reverts to that when he’s super mad, or super nervous … or when he’s telling him how hot he looks while wanking him off. Fucks sake, where is his shirt? He tugs the blanket half-way up his stomach self-consciously, protectively. As though it will help.

Prompto repeats. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Well, why did _you_ kiss me, last night?”

“I was drunk! Would you just – ” Prompto abruptly stops, winces and reaches up to rub at his temple. The blonde sighs. “Just answer the question.”

 _Easier said than done_ , Noctis thinks rather hysterically, trying not to swallow his tongue. “I … Fine. Okay. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I’m stupid for you and have been for too long now and thought last night was … was maybe, maybe something.” He takes a much needed breath and can't help but add: “Happy now?”

Honestly, he's no idea how he managed to say it. Even now, with the syllables hanging in the air between them, it doesn’t seem real.

Prompto has turned completely to face him, eyes as wide as saucers when Noctis braves a glance at him. “Are you _serious_?”

He’s so pretty. Even now, even when he’s breaking his heart.

Not that Noctis even cares! He’s always been happy with how things were, always treated this crush like a little fantasy, protected inside his chest, burning bright each time Prompto smiled at him. To lose that … dammit he shouldn’t have risked that.

“Nothing has to change,” he says too quickly, “I mean. For me - for me nothing _has_ changed. So, we can just go back to before. I – I don’t even care if you don’t, don’t like me back. As long as it’s you I’ll take anything. As long as – why – why are you, stop looking at me like that.”

The smile that has broken across Prompto’s face is blinding. And for a second, the ache is his stomach turns as sharp and painful as a blade at the horrible, instinctual thought: Prompto is _laughing_ at him.

Warm hands cup his face.

“You like _me_?” And Prompto sounds so, so _surprised_ that just like that. Noctis understands. As clearly and vividly as if the curtains had been thrown open again to let the light in.

Of course. Why hadn’t he realised? His best friend is simply an idiot. An insecure idiot who _will_ break Noctis’s heart, if only because he can’t see himself the way Noctis does. The way everyone does! Fucking hell, even his father insists on meeting him!

“Don’t make me say it again,” he mumbles, pulse beating wildly as calloused thumbs rub back and forth across his cheeks, the hope he thought had been extinguished burning up so hard and fast that it hurts. A good hurt this time though. By the Six, a brilliant hurt.

Prompto laughs, uncaring about the roller-coaster Noctis is riding, and then leans close, too close, close enough to induce heart palpations before giving a sweet, final huff against his lips and kissing him.

The relief drops from his body in a great whooshing wave. He kisses back hazy and high. “Like you too by the way,” Prompto mumbles between their lips, and then they’re both smiling so much they can’t continue properly. Instead giggling and nuzzling and breathing together.

Noctis presses his sore head against Prompto’s. “You really thought I was joking?”

“Come on Noct. You’re sitting there looking like the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Prompto instantly bursts out as if he’s been thinking it for the last half hour, continuing even as Noctis releases a strangled sound, “and you expect me to believe you like me? _Me_?”

Noctis tilts his chin just a little, stealing a sweet kiss.

“I’d rather you didn’t insult my boyfriend like that.”

The gobsmacked expression returns to Prompto’s face except this time Noctis gets to enjoy it. Merely laughing as the blonde rises on his knees to swing heavily into Noctis’s lap, glaring for all he’s worth. A finger under his chin tilts his head up, neck bared to meet Prompto’s gaze and an honest to god shudder passes through him as the same look from last night greets him.

“That okay?” he checks meekly.

“Sure is, _boyfriend_.”

Prompto doesn’t close his eyes as he leans down and bites his lip – _bites_ his _lip_ – before kissing him again. And Noctis is more than happy to oblige the questioning tongue until, with a jolt, he remembers the ugly taste in his mouth.

Alarmed isn’t exactly the expression on Prompto’s face when he abruptly pulls away. Fear? Abject terror perhaps? Is it wrong that Noctis wants to laugh? “ _What?_ What is it?”

“I just – I haven’t, my mouth tastes super gross. Just, just let me wash my teeth and I’ll be right back – “

With his hands already braced on Prompto’s hipbones he tries to push him off, glancing towards the bathroom already but the thighs that bracket his hips turn to steel. He squawks in surprise, giving the blonde the perfect opportunity to grab his wrists and lift them up above his head. And why would he fight it? In fact his cock – that had mercifully flagged – perks up at the manhandling and he’s sure that it’s written over his face, as clearly as a neon sign.

“Dude, I don’t _care_. You’re not going anywhere.”

Heat flares up in the small distance between them as Noctis tests his grip and a wicked little smile curves Prompto’s mouth when it holds firm. _Huh_ , okay. Noctis swallows audibly. Yep, that’s, uh, that’s definitely working for him.

Forgetting what he wanted to do, or why, or when, he tilts his chin in invitation. One that Prompto eagerly accepts.

They kiss for what seems like hours; each time Prompto draws away Noctis reels him back in, once by simply making a needy sound. And it’s better than yesterday. Astrals, it’s so much better. Especially sober.

The heavy weight of Prompto’s body shifts as his hands are released so that he can tug and sift through his hair instead. Noctis hums happily, taking his own opportunity to find the hem of Prompto’s shirt and slide under and up over warm, bare skin. The harsh rush of air on his face tells him exactly what his friend thinks of that. He can even feel his eyelashes; tickling his cheek and fluttering every time he tilts, leans, presses.

Noctis’s chest begs him for air.

But he doesn't care. Especially when the blonde moans quietly and starts this wet thrusting motion that mimics _other_ activities and sends bright hot and cold shivers through him. He can’t believe how good it feels. He just can’t believe it.

But they have to stop – because Noctis is sure he’s about to very happily die from asphyxiation – and when they do, his lips feel swollen and bruised and used. They’re breathing hard and loud in the quiet room, staring at each other as if they can’t believe what’s happening. Noctis wonders if they can just do it again, snog until he can’t feel his lips anymore. Prompto opens his lovely mouth.

“You do taste gross.”

It takes him a second to register the words but when he does Prompto is already laughing. “Oh, fuck you!”

“If you’d like.”

Spontaneous combustion sounds pretty good to Noctis at the moment.

“Awww babe, you’re so red. Poor little virgin prince.”

Yep, all they’re going to find is a little pile of royal ashes any minute now. Six, he regrets ever telling Prompto anything about his sex life. “Shut _up_. Oh my god.”

Images of legs and skin and Prompto’s ass circle like a whirlwind in his head, so he buries his burning face into Prompto’s neck and whines childishly.

The _asshole_ he’s hugging clucks his tongue in mock sympathy. “Maybe we could start with a blowjob?”

“Hmmuhm.”

“Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.” Prompto nips his ear playfully. His fucking _ear_!

“You’d hurt my throat.”

It’s almost frightening. Just how much the idea appeals to him. That his voice might go hoarse, that his throat might _ache_ for days, that he wouldn’t be able to breathe without thinking about it. But Prompto’s silence distracts him from the revelation that he’s apparently a fucking size queen, and he peaks up from a freckled shoulder. Normally, he’d be worried when those purple eyes quickly jump away but the little wiggle of the blonde’s hips betray him.

Noctis swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth and decides.

“I, uh, I meant more I’d give you one,” Prompto croaks.

“Sure you did.”

“I did!”

“Prompto?”

“Yeah?”

“Go sit on the edge of the bed.”

~~~

When someone finally did come looking for them, to check that they’re not in fact dead and just ignoring Ignis’s calls as usual, it’s poor Gladio who gets the eyeful. Noctis would have said it’s just the laws of karma.

But his throat hurt too much to do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as an aside, I really was planning more smut but the end came so naturally I couldn't edit it. Poor Gladio.
> 
> And just two things to note:
>
>> Prompto spent half an hour losing his mind before he heard Noctis wake, bless him.
>> 
>> Noctis also doesn't remember the pictures ... yet. ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡° )  
> 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! 


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